Harry Potter and The Coward's Daughter
by SignificantlyWorse
Summary: How would you react if you were told that the fate of The Chosen One, Harry Potter, was tied directly to your actions? It's a good thing no one had told Emma then. In a tale of intertwined fates, the battle between good and evil is a little more complicated this time around. (Not an OC/Harry pairing.)
1. Chapter 1

Prologue – The Prophecy

Fawkes mewled from his perch. Albus Brian Percival Wulfric Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles, before rubbing his eyes and setting down the parchment he had in his hands. The first year register lay on his grand desk. The year that James and Lily Potter's son was finally attending Hogwarts was upon him. The Boy Who Lived, destined to vanquish The Dark Lord, or die trying. A grim fate indeed, to be put on someone so young and vulnerable, Albus thought to himself. This was, however, something he had been preparing himself for, fully intending to guide the young wizard as best he could. He had just hoped his best would be good enough.

Albus silenced his train of thought, for guests were arriving at his office.

"Come in Severus", he spoke and the door to his office swung open. Severus Snape strode in urgently, hand in hand with the silvery eyed, shaking Sybil Trelawney.

"I think you will want to see this, Headmaster," said Snape, his voice wavering slightly as he placed a firm hand on Sybil's shoulder. This may have been an attempt to comfort the seer, but from Severus, the gesture seemed imposing and forceful. Dumbledore stood now, his face dark and serious.

"A prophecy, Severus?"

"I think it is best," he said, bringing Trelawney to stand directly in front of Albus, "If you see for yourself."

Dumbledore nodded, drawing his wand, and placed a gentle hand on Sybil's thin-skinned, quivering face. It was not common for a prophecy to have this much of an effect on the seer, as much as it was common for her to have any true prophecies at all. But this time was different. Albus place his wand to the side of the seer's temple and pulled a blue, silvery strand from her very mind. Snape pulled a small vial from his black robes and extended it to Dumbledore. He placed the memory strand delicately in the vial before bringing it to a shallow stone dish placed in the corner of the room. He emptied the vial into the Pensieve and entered the memory.

Blurs of light and whistles of noise whirled around Dumbledore as the memory began to come into focus, and he could see clearly now he was in the staffroom at Hogwarts. The memory of Snape watched as a quivering Trelawney, her eyes rolled into her skull, spoke in a raspy, reverbing voice. "The Dark Lord and The Boy Who Lived shall face each other, and neither can live while the other survivesssss," she rasped still, breath seeming to escape her body and then catching again, "but their fates rest on The Coward's Daughter and her actions will lead either's downfall", Trelawney heaved forwards, falling on to her hands and knees, shaking uncontrollably now. In a strangled whisper, the final words escaped her. "She. Must. Choose." Sybil Trelawney collapsed, as the world fell away into fog, and Albus Dumbledore returned to the present.

His eyes were wide, and he gripped the edges of the Pensieve tightly. His mind was panicked, racing at lightspeed, before he composed himself, striding over to his desk again.

"Severus, send an owl for the ministry, they'll want the department of mysteries sufficiently updated." Severus nodded wordlessly.

"Your interpretation, headmaster?", Snape tried to speak coolly, but there was a hint of alarm in his voice.

"My interpretation," Albus replied, picking up the first year register and scanning over it before settling on the name he was looking for, "is that I must ask for more of your help, my friend, than perhaps is fair of me. Could you keep a watchful eye on one of our new first years, Emma Merellius."

* * *

Emma Lemerrius was perhaps the most muggle-like a Pureblood could be. It was only after Emma had vanished into thin air during a stressful mock exam in school, that her father David had revealed both his and her true nature.

"I'm...a witch?" Emma repeated, perhaps three or four times, her brow furrowed in confusion but also concentration. Whenever in a bout of hard concentration, Emma would grind her teeth loudly, and pull at her strawberry-blonde hair. Oddly enough, this actually seemed to help her collect her thoughts.

David reached across the kitchen table they were both seated at and placed his hand on top of his daughter's.

"I know it's a lot to take in bu-" David began, but was cut short.

"It all makes sense now!" Emma gasped, standing straight up from her seat and placing her hands either side of her narrow rosy face. "When all the birds burst out their cages at the pet shop when I was seven, that was you?!"

"No, actually", David smiled, "That was you."

Emma gawped at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Then slowly, her face contorted into the widest, brightest smile David had ever seen on his daughter's face. Emma pinched herself hard, David frowning at her as she did, winced, then started beaming again.

"This...", Emma whispered, her head held in her hands, "is just brilliant."

Emma stood, smiling giddily at the air for a few moments, before throwing her arms around her father. The pair laughed, one with excitement and the other with amusement.

"I'm a witch." Emma affirmed.

"Well, you've still got a lot to learn, after all, I've had you believe you're a muggle your whole life." Emma's father said this last part rather sheepishly. Emma looked up at him, confusion evident on her face.

"Muggle?"

David sighed. "Like I said, a lot to learn."

* * *

With the secret out, her father seemed to throw any previous reservations about revealing the wizarding world to her out of the window. He had decided they were moving.

Emma adjusted well to the new home her dad had moved them to. He hastily explained to her after arriving in a large studio-like wooded hut, with bookshelves stretching twenty feet to the ceiling and messes of quills and papers strewn across the floor, that she would be staying at Hogwarts soon and she wouldn't have to stay here long if she didn't like it. Emma, however, was in love. She skipped from shelf to shelf, pulling more books than her small frame could carry from them. She had decided early on she would need to familiarise herself with the new world around her, especially if she was going to a wizarding school in just a few short months.

It had been just two months since her father had told her about her true nature. Emma sat at a large oak table, far too big for just the two of them who dined there, skimming through _Magic Through The Years_. While Emma had originally leapt into her fathers recommended reading material with enthusiasm, it wasn't long before the dull ramblings of dusty old witches and wizards started to bore her. Her dad insisted she pressed on, however, and reluctantly she did. It helped that while she read, a large teapot would occasionally float towards her and refill the mug beside her.

Emma looked up when he heard a chair being pulled up at the table, and saw her father now sitting opposite her. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again. And again. And again. He repeated this process for at least twenty seconds while Emma looked on, bemused. The bemusement soon turned to annoyance, however, and she dropped the heavy book on to the table with a thud.

"Dad, please just spit it out" she pleaded.

He sighed and looked directly into Emma's eyes. "Why aren't you angry with me?"

"Huh?" Emma was taken aback. Angry with him? Emma couldn't even remember the last time she had been angry with her dad. Not even after she had been grounded for four weeks when she stole Sarah Magill's Yo-Yo. She knew she had deserved it, and felt deeply ashamed long after she had been ungrounded for her actions. Emma and her father had, for the most part, a perfect understanding of one another.

"Why would I be angry with you?"

Her father guffawed. "Why? I've been lying to your whole life! I let you believe you were completely ordinary for ten years!"

Emma furrowed her brow. She could see the guilt on her father's face, as he now struggled to meet her eye. He had lied to her. The thought hadn't even hit Emma amid all the excitement, that her father had kept a life-changing secret from her for years. And yet, even after fully understanding the magnitude of her father's dishonesty, she was not angry.

"Well, no." Emma said, crossing her arms before giving her dad an interrogatory stare. "But why?"

"I...can't tell you."

Emma threw up her arms in frustration. Now she felt she could be angry. "Well, what's the point then, of you coming here all guilty-looking, then keeping more secrets from me?"

"Because you know I don't like to talk about your mother."

"Oh." Emma's frustration was extinguished. "Oh. It has to do with mum then." Emma's mum had been dead for as long as she could remember. Something Emma had always felt slightly guilty about was that she didn't really care. She had never known her. And her father was more than enough for her. Emma was sometimes curious enough to ask about her, and while her Dad would always reply, she never felt the response was worth seeing the pain in her father's eyes. Her father would sometimes show her old photos of her mother on very rare occasions, but Emma took no pleasure in looking at a picture of a stranger.

"I can tell you it was for your safety.", her father said. Guilt was still painted over his mousey features, and his messy blonde hair was shiny with sweat.

Emma stood up and planted a kiss on her father's brow. "Then that's good enough for me."

The pair smiled at each other and embraced.

* * *

Emma was relieved to finally be rid of her luggage, her arms sore from dragging her suitcase along the platform. Aboard the Hogwarts express, she heaved her trunk into an empty compartment, and crashed onto one of the seats, her breathing heavy. She was finally here, Emma thought to herself. It wouldn't be long before she would be practising the spells and charms she had read about from one of the many books in her dad's 'recommended reading' list he had given her. Emma could barely contain herself and even as she began to catch her breath, it wasn't long before she began panting again with excitement, like a dopey dog. But then Emma frowned. An empty compartment. Emma had been looking forward to meeting more people like her, if only to have things explained about this new world she now lived in. It had been less than five minutes before the train had started moving, before Emma became incredibly, unapologetically bored. She had twirled her wand several times between her fingers and tried to read one of her preferred textbooks, _Magical Drafts and Textbooks, _by _Arsenius Jigger, _but to no avail. Deciding her luggage would be fine where it was, Emma resolved herself to find someone to talk to or, failing that, to at least have a wander around the interior of the brilliant scarlet train.

Just a moment after stepping outside of the compartment, Emma yelped and nearly hit the ceiling as she jumped in shock. Something dry and scaly had shot up her sleeve and was wriggling around on her wrist. In a panic, she shook the end of her arm above her outstretched hand and a small, brown toad fell into her palm. Emma stared at the toad. The toad stared back. _Ribbit._

Emma giggled at the amphibian that lay in her hand. "Nice to meet you too."

The frog gave another _Ribbit._

"You know you scared the living hell out of me," she brought the toad up to her face, looking at it closely, her eyes squinting from behind her short, blonde hair. "I've never seen a Toad before. I've seen Frogs, those are basically the same, right?"

If Emma didn't know any better, after the Toad's next _ribbit, _she would say it sounded offended.

Then a thought struck Emma. Maybe she had achieved what she had set out to do. Maybe this was another witch or wizard! She had read about magic being used to turn people into animals, though the process behind it had been far too boring to read.

"Nice to meet you, are you a first-year at Hogwarts as well?" she spoke at Toad.

The Toad stared back.

"Trevor!"

Emma looked up and saw a small, round-faced boy running down the carriage towards her, nearly tripping over his own feet. Emma wordlessly held at the frog towards him, her face somewhat reddening by the fact she had just been trying to converse with a toad.

"Th-Thanks. I've been looking for him for ages, I thought I had lost him," the somewhat chubby boy explained, short of breath.

"I like him. Trevor's a cool name."

"Um, thanks?", the boy replied hesitantly, clearly unsure if Emma was joking, but confused at the sincerity in her eyes.

"I'm Emma Merellius," Emma offered her hand to him.

"Neville Longbottom," Neville replied and went to return the handshake. Unfortunately, the hand that he had offered her was also the hand he had been gripping Trevor the Toad with. Now free from his clutches, Trevor leapt from Neville's hands and went bouncing down the train. "No, Trevor!", Neville yelled after him, and gave chase again, nearly stumbling over. Emma couldn't stifle her laugh at the situation, and followed at a run behind him, the two chasing the frog down the carriage.

They had eventually managed to wrangle Trevor again, and Emma had led Neville back to her still empty compartment. She had tried to meet more people, but as most compartments were full it was difficult and awkward to stand in the doorway of a full compartment while trying to exchange pleasantries. Emma instead passed the time chatting with Neville, and this was how she learned Neville was (failing to find a nicer way to put it) a bit of a wimp. He fretted and whined about what tasks they might be put through before being sorted into their Hogwarts house.

"It's just a hat."

"Just a hat?", Neville asked, dumbfounded.

Emma explained the process of the sorting ceremony the same way her father had explained it to her while she waited in line at Olivander's.

This did not help. This simply made Neville stress about how his grandmother would react if he wasn't sorted into Gryffindor. They had long arrived at Hogwarts, boated to the castle, and arrived at the great hall to begin the sorting ceremony, and Neville was still quivering slightly with anxiety and fear. Emma pushed herself through the crowd of first-years to stand beside him and whispered in his ear.

"On the L's now Neville, you'll be sorted soon."

"Oh don't remind me," Neville groaned, "If I get sorted into Hufflepuff, Gran will disown me,"

"Stop worrying," Emma gave him a light slap on the arm. "All you've got to do is go up, put the hat on, take it off, then come back." Neville was not reassured and gulped nervously.

"Longbottom, Neville." called Professor McGonagall

All Emma could do was hold her head in her hands as Neville fell over in his haste to rush to the sorting hat. A mean spirited laugh echoed from some of the first years, and Emma could only imagine this was how parents felt when their child fell over on sports day. It took a while after Neville had finally pulled on the hat for it to shout "GRYFFINDOR!". Emma beamed at Neville, and gave him a big thumbs up, but had to hide her head in her hands again as Neville forgot to take off The Sorting Hat before running to the Gryffindor table. When Neville finally took his seat after returning The Sorting Hat to the head of the Great Hall, the sorting ceremony continued.

"Merellius, Emma."

Emma had grown a little impatient with the ceremony leading up to this but strangely she had now wished her name had been called later, rather than sooner. She thought Neville a bit of a fool for his stressing, but nerves began to take a hold of her, as she slowly stepped up to The Sorting Hat, unusually aware of the _clack_ of her footsteps on the stone floor. It felt like an eternity before she had reached the seat upon which the hat was placed. After placing the hat on her head and placing herself in the chair, Emma almost jumped out of her skin as a voice echoed through her mind.

"Yes, most definitely, that's an easy one. A little creative though...no, not enough wit for Ravenclaw."

Before Emma could even think of protesting the hat's insult, it yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!".

The Gryffindor table clapped as Emma rushed to join them. This wasn't because she was hoping she would be sorted into Gryffindor, she was just starving.


	2. Chapter 2

It was one o'clock in the morning, and Emma was sat up in her bed in the girl's dormitories, her eyes wide and bloodshot. Her bed was a mess of upturned covers and pillows where she had desperately thrashed around to try and find the right position to fall asleep in. It was no use, no matter how tired she was. Maybe reading this would work, she thought to herself, as she pulled _A History of Magic, by Bathilda Bagshot _from a large bag she kept under her bed. Emma speculated that this book could probably be substituted for sleeping pills, lest its effects are so strong it sends you into a coma. In her dozy state, the book slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with a thud. Emma cursed, hoping she hadn't woken any of the girls up. She scanned the large four-poster bed's around her, hoping not to see any movement. The only girl in her dormitory she had spoken to during the feast was Lavender Brown, who was nice enough, but who's giggling and chattiness had been grating, especially when Emma was trying to tuck into her plate of liver, bacon and gravy. She let out a quiet sigh of relief when no movement came from Lavender's bed.

For the third time in the past twenty-four hours, Emma nearly jumped out of her skin again when a hushed voice came from her left.

"Why are you awake?" a high whisper asked, "I hope you're not planning to leave the dormitories, you'll get into trouble!"

Emma whirled around and saw a bushy-haired girl with large front teeth facing her. She was sat up in her bed, squinting at her through the sleep in her eyes.

"Sorry," Emma whispered back. "I can't sleep."

The bushy-haired girl yawned, before glancing at the book lying face down on the floor. "What were you reading?"

"The most boring book I could find," Emma laughed, expecting at least to receive a polite laugh back. To her surprise, however, the bushy-haired girl seemed livelier and more awake now.

"That's a _History of Magic," _the girl slid out of her bed quietly and came closer to Emma. "I think it's tremendously interesting".

"Oh." Emma didn't know what to say to this, so she simply gestured for the girl to sit with her. The girl sat slowly, trying not to make too much noise.

"I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger." the girl whispered, offering her hand.

"Emma.", she replied, returning the handshake. "You like books then?".

With this one question, Emma had hit the jackpot. The stream of babble and chat that poured out of Hermione's mouth in response to this sent a haze straight over Emma's mind.

"The _Standard Book of Spells _is-"

"Did you know bezoars can be used-"

All Emma truly gained an interest when listening to Hermione was when they came to the subject of wands. Emma retrieved hers from the bag under her bed, delicately lifting it from the box she'd received it in. She presented it to Hermione proudly, gesturing for her to take it. Hermione, considerate of the care Emma had shown in retrieving it, took it with an extremely light and delicate grip.

"It's 12 and ¾ inches, Ebony, with a Unicorn hair core."

The wand was jet black in colour, sleek and smooth in appearance, with no visible grain of the wood. A small ringed knot was placed at the bottom end of the wand, and an identical knot around a third of the way up the handle. The space between these two knots was textured, creating a grip for the user to hold.

"It's wonderful," Hermione whispered, giving the wand a slight wave.

"Show me yours," asked Emma.

The two compared wands for a short while, before Hermione somehow got on to the topic of the properties of Murtlap tentacle, and began discussing it at length. Emma nodded absently as she talked, her eye's glazing over.

It wasn't long before her eyes had drooped closed, and she laid her head on the mattress. Her last thought before falling into a deep slumber was '_I wonder if she'll notice?'_

* * *

Now halfway into her first week at Hogwarts, Emma had begun to agree with The Sorting Hat's assessment of her wit. Magic wasn't just shooting different coloured sparks out of her wand, it had turned out, and involved a lot of patience and study to perform. Emma felt relieved when she realised that her struggle with her lessons was pretty much unanimous among her peers, at least among the Gryffindor's. She had come to this realisation, after nudging the boy next to her in her History of Magic class.

"When was Emeric the Evil born again?", she asked him.

He looked at her in worry and replied in a thick Irish accent, "I was going to ask you."

What Emma had learned for definite was that Hermione was the best student in Gryffindor, and so she would often approach for help in between or during classes. There was something non-academic that she had wanted to ask Hermione however, so she approached her in the Gryffindor common room during a free period. It looked like Hermione was the first person to arrive at the common room, as it was empty besides her.

Hermione was seated on one of the large red armchairs, scribbling notes on to a sheet of parchment. Emma plopped herself on one of the arms of her chair.

"Hermione, why is everyone talking about that Harry boy?"

"Harry Potter?", Hermione looked up at Emma, putting down her quill and parchment. "Well he's-"

"Only the most famous wizard of our age!" Seamus Finnigan had wandered into the Gryffindor common room just after Emma, having just caught Emma's question to Hermione. Seamus sat in the closest armchair and gave Emma a puzzled look. "Aren't ya a pureblood Emma? Surely ya know Harry Potter!"

Emma explained to Seamus what she had already explained to Hermione, that she had lived most of her life not knowing magic even existed. Emma was strangely thankful for this after meeting Hermione as it allowed them to relate to each other, Hermione being muggle-born.

"Well anyway, Harry Potter," Seamus Finnigan lowered his voice to a whisper, and scanned the common room in case the person in question came wandering in, "is famous for beating the most powerful dark wizard to ever live."

Emma frowned. "But he's our age."

"That's the thing!" said Seamus. "When He Who Must Not Be Named...killed Harry's mum and dad," Seamus scanned the room again, "he tried to kill Harry too when Harry was just a baby."

"He Who Must Not Be Named?"

"No one says his name." Seamus shivered, "at least no one who knows about him."

"So how did Harry stop him?"

"No one knows." Seamus shrugged. "All anyone knows is that the most feared wizard of all time walked into that house, and the only living thing left inside by the end of the night was Harry Potter, with a scar like a lightning bolt on his forehead."

"Oh. Proper famous then." said Emma, slightly taken aback. She thought he might've been a young rock-star or something, not a vanquisher of evil wizards. "Bet he's a right smarmy git," she joked.

"Not at all!" Hermione squeaked. "He's like you and me. He didn't even know magic existed."

Emma's curiosity had only been piqued further. The most famous wizard of the age, only eleven years old, and didn't even know he was famous?

Seamus jumped with fright, then tried to nonchalantly play with his sleeve, when the boy who's name was on everyone's tongue walked into the common room. Hermione went back to scribbling notes. Emma looked up, and cast her eyes towards him, not caring if it looked like she was staring because after all, she was. Harry Potter was short and skinny, with messy black hair. He was unimposing, but his eyes were a bright emerald green. They came in to direct contact with Emma's eyes when he had seen her staring, but he glanced away quickly. Another boy with bright, fiery red hair and freckles joined Harry on one of the large red sofas.

Emma was just about to introduce herself when no sooner had she stood up than it was time to go back to class. It was potions next.

* * *

As the days passed, Emma became a better and better student. Hermione was an excellent tutor and was always happy when Emma showed a genuine interest in learning from her. Perhaps the biggest lesson Emma received from Hermione was unintentional. After seeing Hermione scribble notes for hours or constantly doing pre-reading for her lessons in the library, she realised something. Hermione wasn't just an effortless genius, she was a genius through effort. Emma had taken to joining her while she studied, occasionally skimming through Hermione's handwritten notes. While she didn't study with nearly the ferocity of Hermione, her understanding in lessons had improved remarkably, and she was beginning to enjoy her lessons rather than dread them. Emma's favourite lesson was probably potions. She had a delicate hand and followed the instructions for brewing to an exact degree. Even Snape's sourness to all the Gryffindor's couldn't take away the satisfaction Emma would gain after brewing the perfect solution. Snape would look into Emma's cauldron, nod his head slightly, then continue his patrol of the class. All things considered, Emma saw this is as a glowing review, given how Snape critiqued her classmates with spite and abandon. She had noticed Snape had a particular disdain for Harry, bullying him at any opportunity.

When Emma wasn't studying with Hermione, she would often hang around with Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, exchanging small talk and gossiping about whatever was in The Daily Prophet that day.

"Update's on the Gringott's break-in," Seamus would remark offhandedly.

"Gringotts?" her and Dean would ask, incredulously.

It was good that Seamus was more familiar with The Wizarding World than her and Dean, as he would often explain things, that were perfectly ordinary to him, to the two of them.

Emma had probably at least spoken to every member of Gryffindor house, and some of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw too, but she had still never spoken to the famous Harry Potter. She had even spoken to Harry's friend Ron Weasley, who was almost inseparable from Harry himself. This was only briefly though, as it was only after Ron asked Emma how to chop his potion ingredients quicker that they had even become aware of each other's names.

Emma had cheered and whooped with the rest of Gryffindor when Harry had embarrassed Draco Malfoy during their first flying lesson. Emma had a deep disdain for Malfoy, who was ghastly and mean spirited, and felt a deep primal satisfaction when he had been shown up by Harry. After Harry had been dragged away by Professor McGonagall, Emma sidled up next to Neville and gave him a light slap on the shoulder.

"Don't you dare let that slime Malfoy bully you like that any more Neville, okay?" Emma growled. What was supposed to be words of support had turned to words of anger as Emma thought about Malfoy's nasty antics. She felt slightly guilty about not having spoken to Neville since her first day, and the idea of Draco pushing him around truly wound Emma up.

"I never know what to do," Neville whined.

"Well I'd tell you what I'd do but that would probably get us both into trouble," Emma grumbled. "Just say, if he tries to insult you, 'Malfoy, close your mouth, your breath stinks worse than Snape's under robes'".

Neville giggled, and Emma heard a snigger from her left as Ron Weasley pulled up beside them.

"I wouldn't let Snape hear you say that. He'd probably set the common room on fire," said Ron. His face soured a little after saying this though. "Hope Harry hasn't gotten into trouble."

Emma glanced over at Neville and saw him staring guiltily at the ground, part of him clearly wishing Harry hadn't defended him.

"He'll be fine," Emma waved a hand dismissively. "What on earth do they expect we're going to do if they give us flying machines! Hover safely, three inches above the ground?"

Seamus Finnigan piped up, and Emma could hear the smile in his voice. "Good thing hovering a few inches above the ground is about all you can manage."

Emma smiled and stuck out her tongue at Seamus.

* * *

Emma had a very strange dream that night. She was in a forest clearing, watching a huge Stag and a gigantic Snake battling each other ferociously. Emma tried to keep herself away from the carnage as they uprooted trees and destroyed everything around them, but everywhere she ran they followed, still clawing and biting at each other endlessly. The Stag knocked into a great Oak tree, which tumbled with a deafening crunch. Emma could only stare as the tree fell towards her, engulfing her vision in its shadow. Emma woke with a start before the tree crushed her, her ears unconsciously perked. Something had woke her. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and saw Hermione tiptoeing down the steps to the common room in her dressing gown. Emma called out to her, but her voice was too hoarse to be audible, and Hermione disappeared down the staircase. Emma forced herself up out of bed, her body protesting but her mind willing, and pulled on a large oversized shirt before descending the stairs to the common room with a light step.

"I almost told you're brother!"

"Almost told what?", Emma arrived at the common room, curious at the scene in front of her. Both Harry Potter and Ron Weasley seemed ready to leave the common room, and Hermione was facing them defiantly, her arms crossed.

"Oh well done," Ron hissed at Hermione. "You've woke up half the house!"

Hermione turned to her. "Oh Emma, good! Tell these two they're being foolish!"

"Oh tell her to shove off and mind her own business, Emma", Ron groaned.

"Where are you going?" she directed this question pointedly at Harry, hoping to actually speak to him for the first time.

"The trophy room. Malfoy wants to duel me." Harry explained.

"I'm his second." Ron said, proudly.

The thought of Malfoy tumbling through the air in panic, or running through the halls with his robes on fire gave Emma a wide smile.

"Oh brilliant," she beamed at Harry, who perhaps slightly put off by her oddly wide smile, politely smiled back. "Let's thrash him."

Hermione and Ron spoke with simultaneous and opposite reactions.

"Haha, yes!" Ron exclaimed. "I knew you were alright, Emma!"

"Emma!", Hermione looked shocked and turned her disapproving look to Emma. "I didn't think you were so stupid!"

"Oh come on Hermione!", Emma skipped to the door. "Imagine Malfoy getting trounced by Harry. Again!" And in one quick moment, Emma swung the common room door open and left.

"Bloody hell," Ron remarked, "if we don't follow her soon, she'll end up duelling her himself!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione, albeit angrily, followed Emma outside the common room.

* * *

The four of them darted back into the common room.

"He tricked us," hissed Emma, panting with fury and exhaustion. "That slimy git tricked us!"

"Never mind that!" Ron replied, panting as well. "What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school! If any dog needs exercise, that one does!"

Hermione had regained her breath and her bad temper back again.

"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?", she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with the heads."

Hermione ranted on at the three of them, before angrily marching up to bed. Emma swore under her breath and chased after her, but by the time she had gotten to the girl's dormitories, Hermione was already pretending to be asleep, ignoring Emma. Emma sighed and got into her own bed. She entered an uneasy sleep, adrenaline still coursing through her body after their dangerous encounter with the three-headed dog, but most of all desperately hoping Hermione wouldn't still be angry with her come the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – Lactose Intolerance and The Troll in The Dungeon

Unfortunately, Hermione was angry with her. She hadn't said a word to Emma in the morning and, during breakfast, Hermione seated herself particularly far away from her. Emma couldn't lie to herself that this hurt, more deeply than she had expected. For a brief moment, she considered approaching her, but decided instead to let her cool her temper first. Emma tried to push Hermione's coldness from her mind, as well as the peculiarity of the previous night, from her head, at least just for the duration of breakfast. This proved unsuccessful, as just as she had lifted a spoonful of scrambled egg halfway to her mouth, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley seated themselves opposite her.

"Well, that was wicked!" Ron grinned,

"Brilliant," replied Harry, the same smile on his face.

Emma spoke unclearly through a mouthful of egg. "You two are mental."

"Oh come off it Emma! You were out the common room door before us!", Ron said.

"Yeah, because I wanted to see Malfoy get clattered twenty feet in the air," Emma replied, gulping some more egg. "Not because I wanted to get digested by a three-headed mutt."

Ron nodded in agreement. "What about what Hermione said though. That it was guarding something. Good spot by her, even if she is a bossy know-it-all..."

Emma looked up from her food at Ron, frowning. "Don't talk like that about her." she snapped.

Ron didn't say anything in response, and this brought an awkward atmosphere over the three of them. Perhaps trying to defuse the tension, Harry began to explain to Emma their theories on what the attempted robbers of Gringott's Bank were after. He described the package Hagrid had extracted from a vault when he had taken Harry there, and his and Ron's speculations that this was what the thieves were after. Emma listened intently, mulling it over in her head before Ron and Harry rolled their eyes when Emma's only question was "Who's Hagrid?"

The three of them began to chat idly when the owls flooded into the Great Hall to deliver the post. A plump, brown feathered Owl squawked and landed directly in front of Emma, a rolled-up parchment tied to its foot by a string. The Owl lifted his head proudly and offered his leg to her. This was the owl Emma had chosen in Daigon Alley.

"Thanks, Barry," she took the parchment and gave Barry's chin a rub before he had taken off again.

"You named your owl Barry?", Ron asked.

"What, don't you think he looks like a Barry?" asked Emma earnestly.

Ron didn't know how to reply.

Emma jumped, as six large screech owls dropped a large thin parcel directly in front of Harry. Emma was as eager as the rest of the table was to see what was inside. Harry tore open the letter attached, with Ron peering over his shoulder as they read it simultaneously. As they scanned their eyes down the parchment, their faces lifted with pure excitement.

"We're just going to go open this Emma, see you, bye!", Harry spoke extremely quickly as he and Ron nearly sprinted from the Great Hall carrying this package.

Emma didn't even have time to protest before they had disappeared, so she shrugged and opened her own delivery.

Dear Emma

Hope you're having a blast at Hogwarts! The house feels empty

without you. Can't say I don't miss you, darling! Lots of new friends

I hope. I remember Charms being my favourite subject when I was

your age, but I lost my love for it after Peeves set off a stink bomb

in the classroom. The smell stayed for years. Anyway, just letting

you know I'll be visiting soon. I don't know if I'll get to see you

because it's a work thing, but hopefully, we can catch up.

Love you, sweet treat.

From Dad.

Emma cringed at her dad's nickname for her but was more confused about the letter's primary content. A work visit? Her father had explained to her that his job was sourcing the material that wand-makers use. What could her father possibly need to come to Hogwarts for? Maybe Professor Snape was a lumberjack in his spare time, or Professor Sprout a collector of Unicorn hair. Either way, Emma was looking forward to seeing her father. She hoped she would get the chance.

* * *

Emma had already been at Hogwarts two months, and she was enjoying every moment of it. For the most part. Hermione had started speaking to her again, to Emma's delight, but it seemed like there wasn't as much of a warmth as there had been before. They would only talk briefly, and mostly about the content of the lesson they had just been in. It felt like they had been downgraded to polite neighbour talk, rather than friendship. Emma had gotten to know Harry a little better now, though the two rarely got to speak after Harry had become Seeker for the Gryffindor quidditch team. Emma spent most of her free time chatting with Seamus and Dean, and the occasional chess match with Ron. These chess matches were just a formality if anything though, and just an excuse for the two of them to talk, as Ron would thoroughly trounce Emma without fail. Emma's pieces would look desperately up at her for strategical advice, and then gulp nervously when she would offhandedly wave them into danger.

It was Hallowe'en, and Emma was particularly excited today. Not for the celebration, but because Professor Flitwick had told them they were going to attempt to make objects fly. Her eagerness was slightly dampened when Professor Flitwick had paired her with Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl, when there had been no Gryffindor's left for her to pair with. They took an instant disliking to each other. They would make sarcastic and snide comments to each other as they took turns trying and failing to use the levitation charm on a feather.

"You speak like you've a blocked nose," Pansy sneered.

"Oh great job Pansy, I think the feather moved! Oh no, wait, it was just the breath coming out your mouth, you gormless -"

"Now now, girls", Flitwick chastised them weakly.

They decided to just take their turns in silence, both of them now desperate to successfully perform the charm, if only to outdo the other one. Emma looked across the classroom and observed Hermione's movements. She tried her best to replicate them and spoke the words.

"Wing-gaaardium Levi-o-sa!"

Success! For just a short moment, the feather rose a few inches off the desk, before abruptly dropping to the surface again.

"Hah!" Emma cheered at this triumph. "See that Pansy?"

"I didn't see it move an inch," Pansy sneered.

"Oh, you didn't? Maybe I should ask Flitwick for a magnifying charm, you blind git!"

This animosity continued through the rest of the lesson.

* * *

It was now their next lesson, and Hermione wasn't anywhere in sight. She whispered at Ron across the classroom.

"Do you know where Hermione is?"

Ron looked towards her, and shook his head, but looked strangely guilty.

Emma narrowed her eyes at him but didn't push the topic, in case the Professor overheard her talking and docked points from Gryffindor.

She was probably just under the weather, Emma tried to rationalise in her head. A part of her, however, knew this was an awful explanation. Hermione wouldn't have missed a lesson even if she'd somehow contracted leprosy.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon leading to the feast was lesson free, so Emma took this time to try and discreetly practice the levitation charm in the Gryffindor common room. This proved fruitless, however, not even coming close to the small success she had during the charms lesson. It was now time for the feast, and Emma had come no closer to levitating anything than if she had waved her hands at a car and pretended it was an X-Wing in the swamps of Dagobah.

Emma was one of the first students to become seated at the feast, and Seamus Finnigan sat down next to her. He picked up a large, pumpkin looking sphere, but it was smaller than a pumpkin and about twice the size of a large cooking apple.

"Here, try one of these!", he offered it to her.

Emma shrugged, deciding that if it was horrible it would at least be funny when she spat it all over Seamus's lap. She took a huge bite. It was delicious. The flavour reminded her of something she hadn't eaten in an extremely long time. Smooth and creamy, it wasn't long before she had devoured the whole thing. She'd even done so before half the students had sat down at the table. But Emma's heart sunk when a strange growl came from her stomach shortly after finishing it. She now knew why the flavour reminded her of something she hadn't eaten in a long time.

"Seamus," Emma spoke gravely. "That was chocolate wasn't it?"

"Yeah!" Seamus replied enthusiastically. "Good isn't it?"

She turned to face him. Her expression was one of subdued, but extremely severe, panic. "I'm lactose intolerant."

"Oh! Sorry, Emma! No idea, truly!" Seamus looked deeply apologetic. "It's not gonna hurt you is it?"

"Not severely," Emma groaned, her stomach already cramping. "But unless I get to the bathroom right now, Filch is going to have to end up working overtime just to clean this chair."

At this mental image Emma had produced, Seamus had turned white as a sheet.

In a flash, still before all the students had been seated, Emma got up and bolted as fast as she could in the direction of the girl's bathrooms, her hands gripping her stomach tightly.

* * *

Emma felt like she had put in a world record-breaking performance with her sprint to the bathroom, as she slammed the door open, and slammed it closed again, breathing a sigh of relief that her stomach had settled slightly. Thank god it was a false alarm. Somewhere, somehow, Argus Filch felt a wave of relief wash over him, without even knowing the reason why. Emma's ears perked up though. The bathroom was almost completely silent, but in the furthest stall, she could hear the extremely faint sound of sobbing.

Emma stepped lightly towards the stall, and pressed her ear towards it, verifying it was the source of the noise. The person inside snivelled, sobbing intermittently between breaths. Emma felt a deep pang of pity for whoever was on the other side of this door.

She knocked on the stall. "Hello?"

"Go away!", a voice squeaked back.

"Hermione!", Emma replied in shock. "What's the matter? Open the door!"

"No!", Hermione snapped back petulantly.

Emma sighed. "Okay. I'm going to keep banging on this door, and I'll only stop once you open it, okay?" Emma commenced the process of smashing her small fist against the stall with a loud bang. It wasn't long before Hermione huffed in frustration, opened the door, and then fell back on to the toilet. The sight of Hermione was a sorry state. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her hair was wild and matted. She could see a sheen of snot just under her nose where she had been snivelling.

"Right." Emma shut the stall door behind her, now slightly claustrophobic with the two of them in the stall. She leant against the wall of the stall. "What's wrong?"

"Everyone hates me!" a dry sob escaped her, having used up all her tears. "They can't stand me!"

"Well, I know that's not true." Emma crossed her arms. "I think you're pretty great."

"No, you don't." Hermione looked down, stroppily. "You only talk to me so I can help you with classes."

Emma tried to disguise that this comment deeply hurt her. This was obviously not true, but it was painful for Emma to think that Hermione meant that. Hermione was clever obviously, but that attracted Emma because it made her interesting to talk to, not because she could help her with homework. That was just a bonus.

Emma sighed, coming off the stall wall and rubbing her forehead. "Look, I've never been that good at cheering people up, but there's something my dad would do if I was ever upset."

"I don't want to-hey!" Hermione was interrupted when Emma pulled her up rather forcefully.

"Just relax, okay?"

Before Hermione could reply, the air was nearly squeezed out of her when Emma pushed herself hard into Hermione's torso, threw her head over Hermione's shoulder and wrapped her arms tightly around her. Hermione struggled half-heartedly against Emma's death grip hug, before going limp. Emma snuggled her neck tighter into Hermione's. "There we go. Better?"

Hermione didn't speak, but after a few seconds of silence, she returned the hug, wrapping her arms around Emma.

"That's nice," whispered Emma, contentedly. "I guess I needed a hug too. Sometimes that's all any of us need. Just a hug."

The two stood in silence for a second, content in each other's embrace, before Hermione replied. "Thank you."

They stayed like that for almost a minute before they pulled away. "Let's go to the feast then. I bet you're starving," Emma said.

Hermione blew her nose, then smiled and nodded. The two left the stall.

They screamed.

What they were faced with having left the bathroom, was the most horrible creature Emma had ever seen. It was gigantic, upwards of twelve feet tall, it's body grey and lumpy. It held a large, crude wooden club in one meaty fist. Emma didn't know what was worse, the appearance, or the foul smell, which permeated their nostrils even from the complete opposite end of the bathroom. Hermione took five quick panicked steps backwards before her back hit the bathroom wall.

Emma's mind was racing, and she was shaking with fear and adrenaline. There was no way they could run, the monster had the entrance blocked, and it was slowly approaching. It was knocking the sinks off the wall with its gargantuan body as it came closer. What on earth could they fight it with? Emma briefly considered tearing off one of the toilet seat lids to use as a shield, before realising she'd be broken like a cheap rag doll if that club hit her, toilet shield or no toilet shield. Emma pulled out her wand and pointed it level with the trolls head, her arm quivering. She had absolutely no idea what to do.

Suddenly there was a clatter of metal against the bathroom wall. The beast lumbered around to face the noise, and Emma saw through the gap between the beasts arms was Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

Ron yelled at the monster and threw a pipe at it. The monster then turned to face him, confused with its choice of targets.

Emma cottoned on to the pair's impromptu plan very quickly. She sidestepped away from the wall Hermione was pressed against and picked up a broken tile. She frisbeed it at the beast, and shouted a loud sharp, "Oi!". The beast lumbered round to face her again, it's head bobbing almost as if he was dizzy from all the changes in direction. "Keep doing it!" Emma shouted, "he's thick as pig slop!"

The trio moved and threw, rotating from wall to wall to try and confuse it. The bathroom was only so big though, and soon Ron was trapped, with no way of darting away from the monster. Ron tripped over, stumbling backwards, and his wand came tumbling out of his robes, landing at Emma's feet.

It was then that Harry Potter did perhaps the most simultaneously stupid but cool thing Emma had ever seen, and she was relatively sure if her life wasn't in mortal danger, she would've started clapping. He took a great running leap and landing on the beast's back, with his arms wrapped around its thick neck. He jabbed his wand up into one of the beast's nostrils, and it howled with pain, thrashing Harry about as he held on for dear life.

Ron looked towards Emma, and with unspoken communication, reached out his arm towards her. Emma picked up Ron's wand and threw it towards him.

Ron caught his wand, pointed it towards the troll and cried, "Wingardium Leviosia!"

For a brief awestruck moment, Emma thought the whole monster would be lifted off the ground, but it was the crude wooden club that floated free of the beast's grip. It rose a few feet above its head, then _crack._ It fell straight on to the monster, the end smacking its head so hard that the troll swayed on the spot, then fell flat on its face. Harry got up and pulled his wand free of the monster's nose.

Hermione was the first to speak.

"Is it - dead?"

"What the hell was it doing here?" asked Emma, still shaking with adrenaline. "Could've at least gone in his own bathroom!"

"I don't think he is," said Harry. "Just knocked out."

Three sets of footsteps came slamming down the corridor, and the bathroom door swung open. Professor McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell entered. Quirrell looked shaken with fright, while Snape looked cold, and McGonagall looked downright furious.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" she cast furious looks at all of them besides Hermione, whom McGonagall hadn't noticed. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

"Hey, am I not allowed to be here?", Emma protested. "Surely there's only one reason for a girl to be in the girl's bathroom. Well, two. Well, I guess three if you count-"

"Miss Lemerrius!" McGonagall snapped. "I would ask that you spare me the detail."

Emma shivered when Snape cast a cold glare towards her. His eyes were naturally menacing.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall - they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

"I went looking for the troll because I - I thought I could deal with it on my own - you know, because I've read all about them. Emma was already here, doing well, normal things."

Emma's mouth opened in shock. Hermione was covering for Harry and Ron, after their reckless rule-breaking?

Emma did become slightly put out by the fact this narrative the four were spinning involved Emma relieving herself for an extremely extended period of time. Admittedly though, she had come to the bathroom to do just that.

"If they hadn't found me, and Emma hadn't been here to protect me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

"Well - in that case... " said Professor McGonagall, staring at the four of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. Harry looked speechless.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry, Ron, and Emma.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than fifteen points," Ron grumbled.

"Ten, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"And me," Emma replied, putting an arm on each boy's shoulders. "Thanks. A lot."

"Hermione might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry reminded him.

"Excuse me?" Emma said darkly. The boy's expressions turned sheepish as her grip on them tightened.


End file.
